


a bit obtuse

by hashire



Series: Kinktober 2018 [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (I feel weird typing that), (just a bit), (slight) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Creampie, Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Public Sex, Virginity Kink, Wall Sex, here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashire/pseuds/hashire
Summary: Hitch has been a thorn in his side since Marlowe met her on the first day of middle school just over 10 years before.They shared almost every class in the morning. She spent most of those classes with her head propped in her hand, a bored expression on her face. To her credit, the first day was made up of the usual get-to-know-each-other games that he also found dull.It wasn't until lunch that he officially met her:  she dropped her tray next to his, plunked down at the table, and said, “Do you really believe all of that?” The question was part curious and part derision.





	a bit obtuse

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing these babes, so please forgive if there are off moments. I did my best. I just got thirsty for some hilow and decided to go all out. I'm considering doing a second part but I guess I'll see if I want to, I guess.

Hitch has been a thorn in his side since Marlowe met her on the first day of middle school just over 10 years before. 

They shared almost every class in the morning. She spent most of those classes with her head propped in her hand, a bored expression on her face. To her credit, the first day was made up of the usual get-to-know-each-other games that he also found dull. 

It wasn't until lunch that he officially met her: she dropped her tray next to his, plunked down at the table, and said, “Do you really believe all of that?” The question was part curious and part derision. 

He looked over at her, at her amber eyes and thick, wavy blonde hair, and said only, “Yes.” He had talked about his beliefs in creating a better world and how he was going to work to change it. 

And she laughed right in his face, slapping the table. “I thought you were just trying to make yourself look good but for real?” She clutched her stomach, tears in her eyes. The boy sitting next to him - Boris, he later learned - had told her to chill. She just shook her head at him and wiped at her eyes.

Marlowe never understood why she continued to seek him out just to make fun of him. He had complained about it once on a day she was out sick. Sasha and Connie, seated down the table, had laughed.

“You really don’t know?” Connie asked.

“Do you?” Marlowe stared at the two as they gave each other a conspiratorial look. Sasha giggled behind a hand.

“It ‘cuz she likes you! Obviously!” This was not the answer he expected. It didn’t make sense.

“Why would she act like that if she...liked me?” Sasha and Connie crossed their arms at the same time and shook their heads in sync before sighing. 

“You have a lot to learn, Marlowe,” Connie said. Sasha nodded and reached over to pat his hand. Marlowe stared at them - the slackers who never did their homework and barely made passing grades - and turned the words over in his head. Then he shook them off, pulling his hand out from under Sasha’s, grabbing his tray, and leaving. Their laughter followed him out. 

It continued like this all throughout middle school. He tried to ignore her, but she knew how to get under his skin. She always argued, always provoked, never left him alone. He thought many times during these incidents what Sasha and Connie had told him (and reminded him when he would bring up the matter after a particularly frustrating day of dealing with Hitch).

She was sitting on a bench outside of school, bored and idly picking at her nails while waiting for her mother to pick her up when he decided to approach her. She must not have heard him coming because she jumped at the sound of her name.

Hitch looked confused for a moment - which, he later realized, was because he never approached her: it was always the other way around - before an odd smile crossed her face. “Marlowe,” she’d said in the same tone he had.

“Do you like me?” he asked, seeing no reason to beat around the bush, especially when the bus was about to leave. She looked at him for a long time.

“No,” she said, then laughed. “Why would you I like you?” She laughed more, stood, shouldered her bag, and walked over to her mother’s car without a glance back.

Marlowe watched her go, annoyed and planning to tell Connie and Sasha to stop making things up when the bus pulled away. His parents worked full time, so he was forced to walk home. This all happened on one of the last days of the year. He anticipated her going to a private high school because her parents had plenty of money to spare for it. He felt odd when he thought about how he might not see her for a long time but dismissed the idea.

Much to his surprise, Hitch popped up on the first day of high school at the very public school Marlowe and many of the others who went to their middle school attended. Life continued the way it had: Hitch would bother him and Marlowe would get annoyed; Connie and Sasha kept telling him that she was lying when he asked her if she liked him (“A girl like her isn’t going to answer her crush honestly when he asks her that!” Sasha had said); and life went on the way it had for years.

Then he decided to go to college out of state. The college he chose and was accepted to had a great pre-law program. When Hitch found out, she tried to talk him out of it. Said things about how there were great schools nearby and he wouldn’t have to spend as much money on them and a lot of other things that just sounded silly. She’d stormed off when he refused to listen.

That had been the last time they’d spoken. Hitch left with her family for a summer-long vacation, not even attending graduation. Sasha and Connie shook their heads at him at the party he attended but wouldn’t say why. Marlowe left before Hitch came back.

He’s not sure why he’s thinking about her in this moment, a mostly untouched beer and a half-empty glass of water in front of him on the bar. It’s probably because he’s back home for the first time in three years following a tough but fulfilling undergrad experience. He’s resting for a few weeks before studying for the LSAT, though he’s also considering taking some time off after that.

Boris was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago, but he’s yet to show or even call to say he’ll be late. Marlowe hears the sound of heels to his right. He grabs his phone as soon as it buzzes only to see a text from Boris: he can’t make it. He sighs and supposes that he might as well finish the beer and head out when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye.

A young woman is standing a few bar stools away from him, wearing the definition of a little black dress. She taps the toe of the tall red heels on the floor as she reaches out to touch the sleeve of the bartender, who’s trying his best to look at her face, which is hidden from Marlowe’s view by a curtain of thick, straight, dark blonde hair.

He’s not the type to even consider trying to pick up a woman in a bar. Anyway, the way she’s dressed tells him that she’s likely here to meet someone else. His suspicions are confirmed when a young man sidles up to her, though he’s definitely under dressed in ripped jeans and a t-shirt with an obvious stain on it.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” he says, eyes raking over her form.

“Oh, would you?” she simpers, and her voice sets off something in the back of his brain. Marlowe can’t quite figure out why it’s familiar in that moment. He then hears her laugh at an inane comment the man makes, loud and fake and he can’t put his finger on where he knows that voice from.

Then the woman runs her fingers through her hair, allowing an upturned nose, round cheeks, and a pointed chin to become visible. Marlowe’s eyes widen before he says, “Hitch?”

Her head perks up but she doesn’t look his way immediately. After a moment, she turns her head. She stares at him for a moment. “Marlowe?” Then she smiles - her expression one that he doesn’t quite trust - grabs her drink, toasts the flabbergasted man who bought it for her, and walks over to him. “It’s been so long.” 

“If I recall correctly, you were unhappy about my choice of college and refused to talk to me.” She sips her drink, maintaining eye contact.

“Well,” she says as she sets it down and runs a fingertip along the rim of the glass, “that was a few years ago, wasn’t it? Bygones be bygones and so on.” Well, she certainly didn’t seem mad now. He gestures to the seat next to him - she’d been standing as though she wants to keep her distance - and she moves it closer to him before sitting. She crosses her legs, the tip of her shoe grazing his jeans but not quite touching him.

“Are you here to meet someone?” She looks at him for a moment until he gestures to what she’s wearing. She laughs. It’s a genuine laugh: he knows her well enough to tell the difference.

“Can’t a girl want to look nice and get a few free drinks?” She twirls a piece of hair around her finger, amusement obvious in her eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.” Then again, he had rarely seen her outside of school. They didn’t live near each other even though they went to the same school.

“See something new every day, huh?” She then reaches over to him. He doesn’t know what she might be up to, so he doesn’t shift away. She touches the hair on his forehead, pushing it up and letting it fall back in place. “Like this new hairstyle. I almost didn’t recognize you. Why the change?”

“Someone suggested I do it after I said I hadn’t changed in in years.” He breaks eye contact to grab his beer and take a sip. 

Hitch hums next to him. “Your girlfriend?” Her voice takes on an odd edge that Marlowe can’t identify. When he looks back over to her, he finds her jaw set, though the smile remains. She runs her finger around the rim of her glass again. He wonders if it’s some sort of nervous tic. 

“My roommate,” he says, not sure why he didn’t say as much in the first place. He also doesn’t know why he adds, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” He didn’t notice how tense her shoulders are until they dropped and her jaw loosens. 

“Well, your roommate was right. No one is going to take an adult with a bowl cut seriously.” She swirls her drink, the ice in it clinking against the glass, though she doesn’t take her eyes off him. He sees movement over her shoulder and can’t help but look when he feels someone watching. 

It’s the man that Hitch blew off after getting a free drink from him. He slams a shot without any indication of being bothered from the burn of the hard liquor and glares. He lifts his hand, probably to gesture at Marlowe but his attention is pulled back to Hitch.

“What are you looking at?” He finds her pursing her red lips, eyebrows furrowed. 

“That man who bought you the drink is glaring at me. I’m not sure why, since you were the one who blew him off.” She huffs at this, blowing upward like she’s aiming for the bangs that are no longer there. 

Hitch nudges his leg with her foot. “Still so oblivious.” She shakes her head and sips her drink. He watches as she swallows it, setting her glass down with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” Marlowe demands. She lifts a slim hand and pokes his cheek. 

“Maybe you’ll figure it out eventually.” She pushes away from the bar and picks up a clutch that he hadn’t noticed before. “Anyway,” she says, and he’s sure she’s going to leave, “I need to freshen up. I’ll be right back.” She walks away, all swaying hips and a model-like walk in those insanely high heels. She pauses, looks over her shoulder, and adds, “Watch my drink, please.”

He swallows, mouth suddenly dry and he doesn’t know why. He grabs her glass, wet with condensation. It almost slips out of his grasp. He catches it just in time. He sets it near his water glass, and, upon attempting to swallow again, he takes a long drink of the water.

“Hey, dude,” says a voice from his right. He looks up, finding the man who had been glaring at him almost breathing down his neck. “If you’re not interested you should just tell her so she can move on.”

Marlowe furrows his brow. “What? I do find her interesting.” He’s never thought about it in the past, but there are things about her that do...interest him is the best word. Even though, of course, her life mission seemed to be to annoy him.

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass.” Marlowe is ready to get up and walk away. He’s never met someone so hostile. “She’s been flirting with you like crazy and you haven’t even noticed.” The click of heels announces Hitch’s imminent reappearance. The jerk backs off but makes one of those “I’m watching you” motions before returning to his seat.

Hitch swivels the bar stool around so she can slide into it without pulling it out. She stumbles a bit - she must have done it on purpose after she didn’t even wobble on her way out - and uses his thigh for balance. “Oh, sorry,” she says, smiling that same smile again. 

“No problem,” he mutters, entranced by the red of her lips and thinking of what the man just said to him. It isn’t the first time he’s been told that: he’d been dragged to parties during undergrad despite many protests, girls approaching him here and there. Almost every time, his roommate would berate him for not noticing their flirtations. He’d just shrug it off. He wasn’t interested in dating, and he figured he wouldn’t ever seen any of them again.

But this - this is Hitch. The one who never stopped bothering him and laughed when he asked her if she liked him. The one who Connie and Sasha insisted wasn’t being truthful. She runs her fingers through her hair and raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong? You’re flushed.” She touches his cheek again. Her fingers feel cool against his skin.

“I, uh, feel sick. I need to go to the restroom.” Without waiting for a response, Marlowe bolts. He moves as fast as he can without running. Even at his fast pace, he can hear the mutter of ‘finally’ as he passes the other man. And, as much as he wants to stay and protect Hitch - a person who really does not need it - he can’t stop the roiling of his stomach.

The light in the bathroom buzzes overhead as he leans over the sink. Despite the nausea, he doesn’t think anything will come up. Instead, he splashes cold water on his face as he takes in the image of his red face. Hitch had been right.

Marlowe doesn’t understand why he’s acting this way. It never bothered him when someone flirted with him in the past without him realizing it. The realization had never come in the midst of it happening, though. And it’s Hitch. Hitch! He never expected this from her, never believed what anyone tried to say about her to him. 

She’d never touched him like this before, usually limiting contact to small shoves and light punches to his arm. But she always did it when she was trying to get his attention, to make him look at her. Has he really been wrong this whole time?

The bathroom door opens. He doesn’t look up. Then he hears the familiar clicking: Hitch. He wipes off his face and watches as she pivots, pushes the door shut behind her, and then, making eye contact, clicks the lock into place.

“What are you doing, Hitch?” 

“I’m just checking on you, Marlowe. You looked so...out of it when you ran away.” She takes a step closer. He feels the urge to step back but fights it.

“Why did you lock the door?” She grins at him then, predatory and full of straight white teeth.

“I thought you could use some privacy. Wouldn’t want someone to walk in while you’re puking.” Another step, and another, and yet another. She’s still a bit shorter than him, even with the heels on, so she rocks up onto her toes, lips almost level with his. She glances at them for a moment, then presses her lips together. Her hand comes up and the urge to flee washes over him. But he doesn’t. “Maybe you have a fever. I should check.” She lays a blessedly cool hand on his forehead. She breathes out an “oh” and starts to say something.

Marlowe moves before he can think, wrapping his arms around her and kissing those enticing red, red lips. Hitch stays still for a moment, mouth parted from her attempt to speak. Then she slides her hand down to his cheek to cup it, throws her other arm around his neck, and kisses him back.

She can probably tell it’s his first kiss, though he doesn’t really want to say so. She takes the lead, murmuring, “Oh, Marlowe,” against his lips. It sends a shock down his spine. The kiss tastes like what he assumes is lipstick and the flavored vodka of her drink. 

They’re both panting by the time she withdraws, eyes dark and hooded. The air conditioner rattles to a start somewhere nearby. Marlowe gropes for something to say, something to break the tense silence. Hitch does it for him. 

“I’m cold,” she says, putting her other arm around his cheek and pressing fully against him. He thinks that she must be telling the truth because, like many places, the AC keeps the bar on the edge of freezing. “Would you warm me up?”

Hitch looks beautiful in the low light - would look beautiful in any light, he’s suddenly sure - and, in this moment, he knows he could never deny her anything she asked for. He tightens his arms as she smiles and leans against him. There’s one thing that gives him pause. “I’ve...never done this before.” 

She sighs a warm, shaking breath against his collarbones. For the briefest moment, he thinks she might make a teasing comment - or, worse, mock him - but then she whispers into his skin, “I’ll just have to teach you.” A warm feeling starts at the top of his head, skitters down his spine, fills his chest and stomach, and reaches his toes. 

Hitch lifts a leg to press her thigh against his hip and hook her calf around him, pressing the point of the heel to the top of his thigh. He grabs it and holds it there, half-hard and pushing against her lower stomach. He puts his other hand on her hip, squeezing for a moment before she reaches for it and slides it around to cup her butt. Marlowe doesn’t know what to do. She rocks against him and moans into the skin of his neck. He squeezes and she moans again. Emboldened, he slides a hand down to grab her other thigh, intent on lifting her to press between her legs before she stops him.

He’s about to pull away, thinking she’s changed her mind and is going to walk out. She grabs both of his wrists to keep him from getting too far as she lowers a leg. Then, she tugs her dress up until her red, likely satin panties are visible. She hooks her thumbs into the waistline and looks right at him as she pushes them down. He stares right back, choking out the only thing he can managed: “Here?”

Hitch cocks her head to the side, reaching around him and tucking the panties into his back pocket. “Why not?”

Marlowe fumbles for a response, opening his mouth to say that someone could walk in before it occurs to him that she locked the door, and that it wasn’t out of concern for him getting sick. Finally, he forces out, “I don’t...have any protection.” 

She puts her arms around his neck again. “I’m on the pill.” She maintains eye contact and he doesn’t detect a lie in her words. Still, he hesitates. “If you want to stop, we can.” Her face remains open and honest, and he believes that she would let him walk away if he wanted. He shakes his head and wraps his arms around her again. She kisses him.

Marlowe lifts her by her hips, considering the sink (which doesn’t look at all sturdy) and ultimately pressing her against a wall. Her legs wind around his hips and she rocks up against him again: this time, exactly where he wants to be. 

She digs his fingers into the fabric of his shirt - a simple button-down that he’d thrown on with little thought - and whines into his mouth. She must be enjoying herself: she writhes against him and makes the most amazing noises he’s ever heard. He lets his hands wander and curve around her hips to cup her backside, touching her skin and pushing the hem of the dress up and out of the way. He wishes - wants so badly - to see her strip it off, but undressing in a sketchy dive bar bathroom is less than appealing.

One squeeze of the flesh causes her to tense up and reach between them to scrabble with the button of his jeans. “Shit,” she mutters, breaking the kiss, arching away from him, and looking between them. 

“Should - should I put you down again?” he asks. 

“No” is the immediate response. Her fingers slip on the button. “Maybe.” It pops open as he moves to set her on her feet. “Wait.” There’s not enough room to ease the zipper down. “Just - just move back a little.” She puts a hand on his shoulder to keep from toppling to the floor when he takes half a step back, immediately missing her warmth against his front. With her free hand, she unzips the jeans and reaches inside. Her hand on him feels like relief.

Marlowe doesn't have an available hand to help but Hitch doesn't seem to need one. He doesn’t even have time to fumble with an offer before she has her hand around him. He grunts and she echoes it, as though it’s as pleasurable to her as it is for him. She strokes him twice, digging her fingers into his shoulder for leverage, tips her head up again, and whispers, “C’mere.”

The half a step back feels like a full marathon, and pressing between her legs is like crossing the finish line. It feels better than anything he’s ever experienced: warm and wet and thrilling. His face must betray that, because Hitch leans into him and laughs softly in his ear.

“Hold on. You’re not even inside me yet.” She lets him rock against her, one hand holding him to her. She sighs at the friction, hand still fisting the back of his shirt. He finds an angle that she likes. She starts moving with him, becoming louder and louder, the noise going into his ear and traveling down through his stomach and between his legs. While amazing, he can’t have someone complain - can’t have someone try to stop them - so Marlowe turns his head and brings their lips together again. It stifles the noise enough to allow him to enjoy that moment, and the next, and the next. 

Hitch’s hand leaves him and she nudges at his hip, encouraging him back. For once, he understands and shifts away the least amount necessary for her to grab him and guide him inside of her. He groans into her mouth, and she bites his lower lip when he bottoms out. 

His lack of experience shortens their time, though he’s able to hold out for her: she has a hand between her legs, moving it in circles and occasionally grazing him as he thrusts in and out, in and out. When he feels her tightening around him, it’s all he can do to hold back while her hips jerk back and forth. She then bites him, sinking her teeth deep into his skin - so deep he distantly wonders if it will bleed - before whispering into his ear, “Come inside of me.”

The lights must be shining brighter as he closes his eyes, bursts of light and color dotting the back of his eyelids. He pants into her hair. She throws her arms around him, holding on so tightly, like he’s going to run away.

Marlowe kisses her temple, and Hitch hums against him. He withdraws to look into her eyes again, and she meets them. Her gaze then drops to his mouth, and she giggles. He tries not to stiffen but it’s hard when he hears that: is this just another way to bug him? But why?

“You have lipstick all over your face,” she says, giggling more. He lets go of her hip to touch his face. She has to dig her fingers in again to keep herself from slipping. Sure enough, he feels something foreign on his jaw. “I have something that can take some of it off.” He stays still until she knocks her heel against his butt, and he realizes he needs to put her down. 

Marlowe feels cold as she lands on her feet, letting go and grabbing the clutch purse that he again overlooked. She opens it and looks through it while he adjusts himself and buttons up his jeans. He reaches over to tug her dress back down and doesn’t miss how she briefly presses her thighs together.

Hitch motions him closer and hands him something that must be some sort of makeup remover. He looks in the mirror and finds that, indeed, there’s red smeared all over his face. He scrubs off most of it, cognizant of Hitch grabbing a paper towel before moving out of his peripheral vision.

He sees her wiping something off her thigh when he turns: his semen. He flushes at the realization and shifts his weight from foot to foot while waiting for her to finish. “Sorry,” but mutters. 

She pauses what she's doing and glances up. “Why are you apologizing? I told you to do it.” He shrugs, not sure what what else to say. She walks toward him again, dropping the paper towel into the trash and reaching behind him. She plucks the panties out of his back pocket and uses him for balance as she pulls them back on. “Anyway - ” She gets cut off by banging on the door.

“Some people have to piss, you know!” a person yells from outside, the door rattling from what is probably a few swift kicks. Marlowe blanches but Hitch just adjusts her dress, walks over to the door, snaps open the lock, and steps aside. The angry man from earlier pushes in. “What the - oh, I didn’t realize you were in here, sweetheart.” She gives him a tight smile and turns back to Marlowe. 

“Anyway,” she says, “you should stop by my apartment sometime.” She winks, grabs her bag, and smoothly walks past the now flabbergasted man. 

“What the fuck,” he growls, then loosens his shoulders. “Hey, man, could you do me a solid and give me her number? I doubt she’ll stick with someone like you.” Marlowe distantly realizes he doesn’t know where Hitch lives now, not bothering to register what the man said. Then: “I definitely want to hit it.”

Marlowe walks out, chasing after Hitch as the man crows about how his nose is broken.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://hashire.tumblr.com/post/179667536847/a-bit-obtuse).


End file.
